THE BEAN IS PLANTED

"So we start tomorrow at 3pm?" she asks with those innocent piercing eyes that leave you with no room to maneuvre for a declination.
"Sure, 3pm," I half-heartedly reply in what has become my thinking pose. My eyes look lazy as I run through my entire schedule for the day. What in the blazes can a full-time student like me be thinking when I sign up for more on my "to-do" list? I joined this club to get a life, not have the remnants of it snatched away from me. But here I was being me. Too timid to say no. We left that evening determined not to let her down. On the bright side, it meant our pockets would be happier. No wait, that's incorrect. The club's pockets would be lined but eventually ours would be lined because we were the club and anything the club did, we got to shine.
Still did not make sense the next day. At 3p.m., it got even more confusing so I ducked to the health unit. What with this excuse of a cold, I had apologised and sneaked myself of maid duty. One day down, many more to go. Many did indeed come but I always found an excuse to worm out of it. Maybe if I found a way to share in the profits, maybe if I did not have the indignity to admit that I was missing class to do this- SELL COFFEE! Why did it have to be in front of all our friends? Why did we have to carry that big urn around all day and beg, literally beg our friends to buy? Who buys coffee anyway, why at that price? Just full of excuses. If only I knew how bad life was about to make me eat humble pie, I would stop acting like I am full of myself.